Mother's Intuition
by everlovingdeer
Summary: "He was the whining son?" I asked incredulously, pointing towards Weasley who flushed a surprising red at his mother's nod. Merlin, I couldn't have stopped myself from laughing if I tried. Not that I did. With an embarrassed frown, Weasley turned his gaze to his mother and whined, "Mum!"
1. Mother's Intuition

One of the best things about being a Potions Master's apprenctice was being assigned with the responsibility of buying the ingredients. I liked being able to check them with my own eyes, my own fingers to make sure that we would be using the best ingredients. I knew that many of the other apprentices would disagree with me and maybe that was why they were never given the responsibility. Master Puffins had admitted that if you didn't care about the ingredients you used then you were just _asking_ to botch your potion. And no person studying to become a Potions Master should take that risk.

Ducking into the right shop, I instantly headed towards the plant section. Rummaging through the wooden crate full Gurdyroot, I picked up the largest one and examined it, turning and twisting my hand so I could study it all. Frowning at some of the brownish bruising on the plant by its head, I set it aside and looked for a different one. When I finally found one that met my standards, I put it into my basket and moved swiftly on. There were still many more ingredients that I needed to buy.

I followed the signage inside the shop as I searched out the crate of Mistletoe berries. Picking a small brown bag off the nearby stand, I prepared to painstakingly search through each of the berries in search of the best ones. Someone reached out to grab a handful of the berries without a care. Before they could shove them haphazardly into their bag, I grabbed their hand to halt them.

Straightening up with an apologetic smile, I turned towards the older witch who looked a little stressed. Releasing her hand, I hurried to explain, "You shouldn't be using the berries in your hand – half of them are almost close to rotting and they'll ruin whatever potion you wind up using them for."

"Oh," the kindly looking woman said in surprise, dropping the handful of berries. "Thank you, dear."

"It's no problem," I assured her, watching as she ran a hand through her fiery red hair. "It is a bit packed in here so I can understand wanting to get out as quick as you can. But it's better to get the best ingredients. It means you don't have to make a second trip later."

"That's very true," she agreed, watching as I rifled through the box of berries and slowly filled her bag up. She took the bag from me with a thankful smile and watched as I started to do the same with my own. "I really have no idea where my mind is at the moment; I feel like I'm running myself ragged by being all over the place."

"Everyone has those moments," I agreed, picking up a berry and holding it to the light. Finding that it was almost near perfection, as near to perfect as store bought Mistletoe berries could be, I added them to the older witches' bag.

"For someone so young, you've got so much knowledge about ingredients," the older witch complimented as she looked through some of the other ingredients in the aisle. Eventually she would hold the ingredient towards me as if to get my approval.

"That's only because it's my job." With a smile, I admitted, "I'm training to become a Master Potioneer."

"Sometimes its better to use a homemade potion instead of a store bought one," she admitted and I nodded, turning curiously towards her. My eyes scanned over the ingredients in her basket, silently quizzing myself on what potions could be made with the contents of her basket. Some sort of potions to remove a fever?

"I'm planning on making a potion to reduce fever," the older witch explained and I nodded, silently basking in the rush that came with knowing that I'd been right in my guess. "For my son."

"Well," I began slowly, "if your son is still quite young, you could add some honey to the potion right before you serve it to sweeten it? Natural honey is nonreactive enough to not affect the potion in anyway. It'll just make the potion much easier to swallow."

"I've never tried that," she admitted as we walked towards the desk at the front of the shop.

Joining the line for the check outs, we continued to talk right up until we reached the front of the line. The older witch was called first, but before she went to the cashier, she turned towards me. I watched her curiously.

"I just realised I never introduced myself," she said with an embarrassed smile. "My name is Molly."

"It's nice to meet you," I said with a warm smile after introducing myself.

* * *

It seemed that fate herself was adamant of making my run in with Molly something more than a one off as I continued to meet the older witch on an almost daily basis. I could understand running into her whenever I happened to be sent off to buy potion's ingredients but I even ran into her after going to dinner with my brother who was staying with me while he was in town.

After we finished with dinner, we were walking towards the doors when I stopped in my step at the sight of the older witch and a man who must have been her husband. She too had stopped still when her eyes settled on me. But that was only for a few seconds and then she was walking with quick strides towards me to embrace me in a sudden hug. Although I was a little startled at the unexpectedly affectionate gesture, I returned it slowly. When we pulled away finally, I looked towards my brother who had appeared behind me and watched the older couple with curious eyes.

"I think fate wants us to become friends," I said with a slight giggle that she returned with a wholehearted laugh.

"Absolutely." Turning over her shoulder, she gave the man with her a quick summary of who I was and how she knew me, Molly then looked back to me. Gesturing towards the older wizard, she explained, "This is Arthur, my husband."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said, realising that Molly's eyes were rooted onto my brother. She looked over him with a critical eye and when she raised her eyes back to mine, she mouthed the word 'boyfriend' at me. No doubt the horrified face I made in response was enough of an answer, but I explained anyway, "This is my brother. He works out of the country but he's staying with me for a bit of a holiday."

"You do?" the older wizard asked then, coming into the conversation. "That sounds awfully interesting."

"Working with magical creatures always is," my brother said with a smile and just like that the two men were talking between themselves, leaving me and Molly alone.

Molly sent a curious glance towards my brother before admitting, "One of my sons works abroad as well – with dragons at that."

Silently wondering just how many dragon reserves there were in the world, I made a vague comment about how that sounded dangerous. From all of my brother's stories I knew exactly how dangerous a profession it was. I still thought he was out of his mind. Then again, he thought that _I_ was the crazy one for wanting to spend my life working over a steaming cauldron.

"I worry about him," she confessed with a small frown. "He's only 20 and he's away working with dragons."

"20?" I repeated with curiously raised eyebrows. When she nodded, I admitted, "We must have been in the same year at Hogwarts – I'm 20 as well, you see."

"That's such a coincidence," Molly said, clapping her hands with glee. The world really was far smaller than it appeared. "I'm sure the two of you would know each other then."

"Maybe," I allowed, knowing that whilst our year was small in size, people tended to keep to their chosen group of friends. I was the same. "How did the potion turn out? The fever reducing one?"

"Oh, it was perfect. No doubt your ingredients helped." Swatting away the praise, I listened when she added, "It was for my second son, the 20-year-old. The additional honey was perfect. It was enough to stop him from squabbling long enough to take the potion."

I couldn't help but smile at the image it conjured up; a fully-grown man of 20 acting like a child because he didn't want to take his medication. Eventually, once my brother and Arthur had finished their conversation, they returned to us. Approaching his wife with a gentle smile, Arthur took her hand in his and started to draw her away.

"We should get going," he said quietly as if he knew she wouldn't stop talking if he left her to her own devices. Raising his eyes towards mine, he said politely, "It was nice to meet you."

"And you too," I replied, watching as the older couple left the restaurant ahead of us.

My brother came up behind me, pushing me to walk out as well. As we stepped out into the cool evening air, I drew my coat tighter around me. Realising that my brother was watching me, I raised an eyebrow in silent question when he shook his head.

"I swear, you'll make friends with a bloody dementor if it stopped to ask you about potions ingredients," he scoffed as we walked towards the nearest apparition point.

"Hey!" I protested, shooting my leg out to kick him as we walked. "Dementors can't talk."

* * *

Completing my training with Master Puffins was both fulfilling and a little sad. On one hand I was glad that I had managed to successfully complete all the training I needed to be granted my Potioneers licence, but it also meant that I wasn't going to be seeing the same groups of people day in and day out, I'd need to move on to find work. Although, from the congratulatory letter Master Puffins had sent me, he might have already had a vacancy ready for me to fill in his potions store.

The last step to actually receiving my licence was to submit the paperwork at the ministry which took a surprisingly short amount of time. As I walked out of the door to the department of licensing, my eyes refused to lift from the customer copy of my licence which would be owled to my home in a matter of days. Rowena, the small piece of paper in my hands was everything I had wanted to work towards. And really, not being able to look up for it was simply asking for trouble.

Especially when, the moment I walked out of the door, I bumped right into someone. My certificate almost went flying out of my hands but I caught it quickly as I instantly spouted apologises.

"Whoa," the man said, holding my arms to steady me. When he was certain that I was stable, he released me and I _finally_ made myself raise my eyes to look over the man.

Merlin, I'd never expected to find myself standing across from Charlie Weasley. I certainly was surprised to recognise him in one go; regardless of all the he'd changed since school. Whatever work he was doing now, the smattering of freckles all over his face and exposed forearms made it obvious that he spent a very long time in the sun. I briefly wondered whether he did a lot of physical work, taking in the ways that he'd bulked up a little.

"Weasley," I greeted, hoping that I didn't sound as awkward as I thought I did.

"Ayers," he greeted back with a slight nod of his head.

Although, now that I thought about it maybe it wasn't odd that this encounter seemed awkward? We had never been friends whilst we were at school, we hadn't been fond of each other, either. We had been too different; whilst Weasley had been cheeky, I had been more reserved. Merlin, we'd often wound up getting involved in arguments because both of our dearest friends had it out for each other. They really weren't our fights and yet we got dragged into them anyway.

Eyeing the watch at my wrist, I wondered just how much longer I had to stand here. How much time had to pass before you could leave without appearing rude? Realising that I certainly didn't have anything I wanted to say to him, Weasley cleared his throat.

"So, what have you been up to Ayers?" He tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, looking over me in a way that was hardly critical. It was almost appreciative, in nature.

Gesturing towards the paper in my hands, I announced, "I've actually just become a licenced potioneer."

He nodded, saying, "Congratulations."

Accepting it with a smile, I asked out of pure politeness, "What about you? What have you been up to?"

"I'm training to become a Dragonologist," he explained slowly. "I work with dragons on a reserve in Romania."

His words had my mind whirring; as far as I knew there was only one reserve in Romania.y Mbrother was certain of that – he was working at the only one. Meaning that Charlie bloody Weasley worked with my brother. Rowena, there really was no getting away from him.

Clearing my throat, I moved to get around him, "Listen it's been good catching up but I need to get going."

"Right, of course." He cleared his throat, gesturing for me to go ahead.

With one last glance towards him, I carried on walking down the corridor. But it seemed like I was destined to spend and unnecessary amount of time in the Ministry today as Molly rounded the corner suddenly. She was clearly in a rush, scanning the corridor as she looked for something. That didn't stop her from calling out my name out happily as a smile took over her features and wiped all the stress away.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she seemed to push aside whatever she was supposed to be doing and instead made a direct beeline towards me.

"I got my licence," I admitted with a grin that was much more genuine now.

She made a happy sound, moving quickly to embrace me. Wrapping her arms tight around me, she said hurried congratulations, stumbling over her words slightly with how happy she was for me. Seeing her so happy was making me smile so much that my cheeks were beginning to hurt. When she drew away from me, Molly reached out for my copy of the certificate and scanned it with amazed eyes.

"Mum!" the exclamation had both of us looking over my shoulder at the approaching Wizard. Looking between Weasley and Molly – _Mrs Weasley_ – I could only wonder how I hadn't seen the resemblance. But Molly certainly hadn't given me her surname, either. When Weasley came to stand beside his mother, he looked between the two of us with curious eyes.

"How do you know Ayers, mum?"

"She helped me pick potion ingredients," Molly explained, returning the certificate to me, "for the potion I fed you when you were ill, remember?"

" _He_ was the whining son?" I asked incredulously, pointing towards Weasley who flushed a surprising red at his mother's nod. Merlin, I couldn't have stopped myself from laughing if I tried. Not that I did.

With an embarrassed frown, Weasley turned his gaze to his mother and whined, "Mum!"

I almost asked Weasley if he always made it a habit to whine like a baby when I remembered his mother's presence. Instead, when I turned towards Weasley, I found myself caught off guard by the way he was looking at me. Rowena, I knew that look and he certainly shouldn't have been directing it towards me.

"It's good to see you smile Ayers," he said after a long moment, voice low. "You never did it enough at school."

Eyebrows rising incredulously, I struggled to think of a response. Not that I could have said anything anyway. His mother had also heard his words and turned to me with a smile that was very different to all the ones she'd given me before.

I found myself watching apprehensively as she declared, "Maybe it'll be good for you old school chums to get together whilst Charlie's still in England?"

Thinking quickly, I said, "Definitely but since I don't know where I'm going to be assigned, we might have to put it off for a while."

* * *

Of his latest batch of apprentices, I was the only one Master Puffins chose to keep. He offered me a place working to maintain his potions shop where the potions on sale were of his own recipe but I would be the one to brew them whilst he worked on new recipes. It was all I had dreamt of and perhaps with a little more experience, one day the potions on sale would be based on a recipe of my own creation. But I was a long way away from being able to create one by myself.

The steady stream of loyal customers who only used Master Puffins potions was almost constant and it seemed like I was restocking a shelf every hour or two. The bell by the door jingled as it was hit and I found myself turning towards the sound, as I always did to see which customer had decided to walk inside. I certainly hadn't expected it to be Charlie Weasley.

He stood at the entrance as the door shut behind him, scanning the shop as if looking for some assistance. I was tempted to duck out of sight but he was here to buy something and it was my job to help whenever a customer needed it. Waiting and watching as Weasley's eyes inevitably settled on me, I straightened up when he instantly headed straight towards me.

"Mum sent me," he explained, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. "She found out you were working here and insisted that your handmade potions are bound to be better than the ones we've always used before."

"Oh." Heat rushed to my cheeks at the unexpected compliment. "Did you need my help or something?"

"The potions mum wants, they're for my sister Ginny," he confessed, withdrawing a list from his pocket. He stared down at it with furrowed brows. "She's only 11 but mum insists she needs these potions so they can be sent to her at Hogwarts."

"Do you know what she wants the potions for?" He flushed a little peculiarly at the question and chose to hand the list to me instead of giving me a verbal answer.

One glance at the list of potion names and I immediately understood. Even still I couldn't help but laugh quietly at seeing him so uncomfortable at something so simple.

"Follow after me," I ordered from over my shoulder as I walked around the shop, plucking potions off the shelves as I went. Grabbing a standard pain potion from the shelves, I followed on with one to reduce cramps and to improve mood. I contemplated for a moment, staring at a potion to help stabilise iron levels before snagging the smallest bottle from the shelf.

I glanced over my shoulder for Weasley, expecting to find him following reluctantly behind me. Not expecting him to be so close, I almost jumped when my shoulder brushed against his chest and cleared my throat to pass off my reaction. But his quiet chuckle told me that he didn't buy it. Shifting the potions into his waiting arms, I headed straight for the counter. He could carry them instead of walking so closely to me.

"You know," Weasley said as he shadowed me, "mum hasn't stopped singing your praises since we met at the Ministry."

"Well," I said with a slight shrug, "your mother and I seem to keep bumping into each other."

Reaching the till at the front of the shop, I rang up the prices and looked contemplatively at Weasley. There was very little chance that he would know anything about his sister but I was obligated to tell him. With a reluctant sigh, I reached for the smallest potion bottle and gestured for him to pay attention.

"This isn't on your mother's list but I think your sister might end up needing it at some point," I explained steadily. "During her _cycle_ she might wind up loosing too much blood and get low in iron – iron is important for a lot of reasons and a tiny dosage of this will return her levels to normal. But before she takes any of this she will need to run a test – the matron at Hogwarts will know how to run the test and will teach her if she asks her to. You _need_ to make sure she knows that Weasley, girls have fainted before because of having too low iron."

"Got it," he murmured with a nod, reaching out for potion and staring at the little bottle with curious eyes. "And this'll be enough for how long?"

"If she stores it properly and has a cycle of relatively normal heaviness, she won't ever have to purchase another bottle."

He nodded, accepting the information before scrunching his eyes shut. "Merlin, that's so much information that I never wanted to know." With a sigh, he opened his eyes and gestured to the other three potions which I bagged up. "What about them?"

"These are taken as needed – and she won't need to run tests to know when she needs them. Believe me, she'll _know_ when she needs them. Dosage wise?" I trailed off, biting my bottom lip in thought. Casting a glance at Weasley, I asked, "How is your sister size wise? Is she frail?"

"Extremely knobbly kneed," he said immediately.

"Then have her take the lowest dosages for now." Totalling the price, I accepted the money from Weasley. "The dosages she requires will increase with age. If the dosages she takes are too high or too powerful, she'll end up acting like she's high until it's all run through her system."

"That's a lot to remember to write to her about," he murmured, sounding a little concerned.

Glancing around the shop and seeing that no one else had lined up behind Weasley, I grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. Jotting the basics of what I told him down, I held the paper expectantly towards him. He accepted it readily.

"We don't want you forgetting anything," I explained as he looked over the parchment.

He nodded, folding the parchment in half and tucking into the bag. I expected him to walk out of the store now that he had everything he needed. But he didn't. Instead, he crossed his arms and propped them on the counter.

"My mum thinks we should get more acquainted, " he confessed in such a straightforward manner that I was left staring at him incredulously. "She thinks your the type of witch that will leave me cursing my luck if I let you walk right by me."

Ducking my gaze from his, I asked quietly, "And what do you think?"

"I think my mum's a good judge of character." That was _not_ the answer I had been expecting and he clearly read it on my face. "We should try one date and go from there."

"Don't you remember all the fights we got into at Hogwarts?"

"Those weren't our fights," he pointed out. "We just got dragged into our friend's fights. So?"

"So," clearing my throat, I picked up the back and held it out towards him. "Goodbye Charlie."

He held my eyes, his gaze lingering on me for a moment. Eventually he turned away with a sigh and headed out of the shop. If I said my eyes didn't linger on his retreating back or trail after him, then I would be lying.

* * *

I had offered to house my brother when he returned to the England for a holiday and I _knew_ that I had offered. Honestly, I didn't regret letting him stay with me because it of how good it was to see him again after months of separation. But he was certainly coming close to making me change my mind.

The man could eat for days and so he was occasionally paying for groceries, but he wasn't the one that was actually doing any of the shopping or the cooking. His excuse was that I would complain that he didn't buy the right things, that I was as picking about cooking ingredients as I was about potions ingredients and that if I wanted my kitchen to remain in one piece, I would keep him as far away from the kitchen as possible. All very valid reasons. But that didn't make them any less irritating.

Unlocking the door to my flat, I let my bag float in behind me before shutting the door. Moving to kick my shoes off, I paused hesitantly at the sound of a man's voice coming from the front room. It _definitely_ didn't belong to my brother. With slow steps, I drew closer towards the voice, wand at my side. My defensive stance dropped the moment I heard my brother say something in response.

With a relieved breath, I waved my wand at my bags and silently sent them into the kitchen where they would settle on the counter. Shrugging out of my coat, I threw it onto the nearby heater and walked past the front room door to head into the kitchen; I needed to sort out the groceries. But my brother was intent on stopping me. Calling out my name, he gestured for me to come into the front room. And after a reluctant sigh, I complied.

Walking into the front room with slow steps, I looked around in search of the man that my brother had invited into my home. The moment I saw the person sitting on my sofa, my eyes widened a little in shock. Merlin, Charlie certainly hadn't been expecting to see me either as he rose to his feet at the sight of me.

"This is Charlie," my brother introduced, not realising that I shared a prior connection to the fiery haired wizard. "He works with me on the reserve. Charlie, this is my sister –"

Charlie spoke my name then, cutting my brother off and when he looked curiously toward him, he was quick to explain, "We went to Hogwarts together."

"We were in the same year," I added when my brother turned towards me as if to ask if it were true. Deciding to quickly retreat, I slowly withdrew my steps out of the room. Rowena, it just wasn't fair! Since his offer of a date, I hadn't managed to think of anything but him for more than a few minutes. "Why don't I leave the pair of you to catch up? I have some groceries I need to put away."

"Charlie," my brother said suddenly just as I was about to cross the threshold. "Why don't you join us for lunch? My sister might not look like it but she's one hell of a cook."

If my brother noticed the incredulous look I was sending his way, he certainly didn't act like he did. Instead, he continued to watch Charlie expectantly. Looking helplessly between the pair of us, Charlie fidgeted with his earlobe.

He spoke slowly, "I probably shouldn't; I wouldn't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't be intruding," my brother insisted, clearly not able to read the room. He always had been a moron.

"No, really –"

"Stay," the word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Biting my tongue forcefully to stop myself form spouting all other sorts of nonsense, I simply met Charlie's eyes. They silently questioned whether I meant it and with a single resolute nod, I turned on my heels and strode quickly towards the kitchen. Me and my damn mouth.

Knowing that it was too late to change my mind and kick Charlie out, I set about sorting through the bags of groceries. Putting the bottles of milk in the fridge, I slipped into my apron and washed my hands. Wiping them dry on the bottom half of the apron, I looked towards the doorway when there was a steady knock on the door. Charlie stood in the doorway, knuckles still raised as if he thought he would have to do it again. Realising that he had my attention, Charlie lowered his hand slowly to his side.

"Is there anything you can't eat?" I asked, averting my eyes from his.

Charlie was slow to answer my question and as I reached for the potatoes, I listened out for the steady approach of his footsteps as he crept ever closer. "I can eat pretty much anything."

Nodding in acceptance, I moved quickly to the other side of the kitchen, rifling through the drawer to find a peeler. At the sound of running water, I looked up curiously ready to tell Charlie where the glasses were kept. But the sight of him washing his hands had me falling silent. When he turned towards me, I raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing?" I asked quietly, watching him closely as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. My eyes trailed up his exposed forearms and Merlin, nothing could have prepared for the sudden rush of awareness I felt for the only other person in my small kitchen. He stood less than half a metre away from me and yet it felt like there was no space between us.

"Put me to work," Charlie offered suddenly and I cleared my throat. Nodding, I haphazardly passed him the peeler.

"You need to peel those potatoes and carrots for me." I tried to walk right past him towards my pantry when a warm hand encircled my wrist with ease.

The contact had me stilling; it was enough to make me raise my eyes to his. Charlie stared down into my eyes, scrutinising my face for a long moment and dear Rowena, I could pinpoint the exact moment he realised what was going on. His eyes were alight with a mirth that I had heard so many of the girls in my year giggle over when we had been at school. When he leaned down, as if to kiss me, I was helpless but to submit to it. Rowena, what was I doing?

"About that date?" he asked quietly, words nothing more than a murmur that was easily lost in the space between us. And damn his voice, it was enough to fool me into nodding my head once in assent. Just like that, he was grinning so quickly that its appearance pierced the space air between us. Shaking myself out of my daze, I belatedly realised what I had agreed to.

* * *

Despite my consenting – albeit consent that I had given whilst being a little preoccupied in my thoughts – we never did get around to arranging a date. And perhaps it was because I had made it my most important priority to avoid Charlie and so far, I had been successful.

It wasn't necessary because I didn't want to go on the date with him – part of me did. But it was just because I was so embarrassed! What sort of person got so overwhelmed by another person that they couldn't even think straight? That just wasn't what a smart person did and I had always been a smart person. How in Merlin's name had Charlie Weasley of all people managed to get such a hold of me? If the me from two years ago was told that in a few short years she would be infatuated with Charlie bloody Weasley, she would have laughed until she was red in the face.

Of course, avoiding Charlie meant that I also wanted to avoid his mother. One look at Molly and I knew she was the sort of mother that got involved in her children's lives, even when she shouldn't. No doubt this would be something that she made herself a part of. I had been successful at it as well, managing to evade the older witch for the good part of a week and a half.

But that had come crashing down around me when Molly appeared in the shop and marched right towards the counter. Part of me expected her to give me a telling off, but she hadn't. Instead she had told me that she needed a Potioneer's opinion about something, that Ginny appeared to have had an allergic reaction to one of the potions and she needed to know of an alternative she could have to ease her cramps. The news startled me as I thought carefully about the ingredients in the potion but before I could offer up a suitable solution, she insisted that we would have to discuss it at a further date because there were matters that she needed to tend to.

And that later date had arrived. I walked into the restaurant where we had agreed to meet up for lunch and took a seat at the table I had reserved. As the first person to reach the table, I reached into my bag and withdrew the notes I had taken. After she had told me about Ginny, I had taken every spare moment to try and isolate the ingredient that would be causing the reaction – there were chances that it was in other potions she would encounter in her life. I had written out an extensive list of potions that she would need to avoid if certain ingredients were triggering.

Scanning the lists one more time to make sure that I hadn't made a single mistake, I glanced up with a welcoming smile at the sound of the chair being pulled out from under the chair. The smile died the moment I realised who was standing across from me. Charlie met my eyes with a smile, settling down across from me and I watched the wrong Weasley with furrowed eyes.

"Where's your mother?" I asked before he could greet me. "I thought she wanted to discuss Ginny's allergic reaction? Unless, that's what _you're_ here for?"

"Ginny didn't have an allergic reaction," he admitted steadily, crossing his arms and watching as my lips parted to protest. "Mum lied to you."

"She _lied_?" I repeated incredulously, my eyes lowering to the bundles of parchment I had brought with me. I had spent hours, _hours_ researching and it was all because of a lie? Merlin, there was no way that I would be getting the sleepless nights back.

"She wanted you to stop pussyfooting around," the way he said it so casually threw me for a moment. Clearing my throat, I silently conceded that both mother and son had managed to trick me well and gathered the papers up again. For a moment Charlie watched me apprehensively, as if expecting me to try and leave and trying to formulate a plan to get to remain seated. The tension eased out of him slightly when he realised that I was just putting the papers away. When I remained seated across from him, arms propped against the table top, he admitted, "You've probably realised by now that my mum is a bit of a busybody. She just can't help herself."

"I can't say I'm surprised," I murmured, reaching for the menu. Opening it up, I straightened up in my seat and spoke with as much casualness as I could muster, "I don't know about you Weasley, but I'm starving."

"Me too," he agreed instantly, reaching for his menu.

For a man that claimed to be starving, he certainly wasn't reading the menu with any interest. Instead, he would throw glances towards me every few seconds and I briefly wondered whether he thought he was being subtle only to realise that he didn't care. Lifting my gaze towards his, I raised an eyebrow.

"You actually need to read the menu to decide what you want to eat."

"I'm half expecting you to stand up and walk away."

"I might," I acknowledge with a slow smile. "It just depends on how charming you are."

"Oh love," he started with a persuasive grin. "I'm so charming that you won't protest to changing your surname for mine."


	2. Epilogue: 3 Years Later

3 YEARS LATER

In a few short years, under the ever faithful and brilliant guidance of Master Puffins, I had managed to get some potions of my own out into the market. Working with the Master Potioneer had only helped to improve the credibility of my potions. Not that getting a recipe approved by Master Puffins was very easy; it was almost impossible. But I was grateful that he continued to pick faults at my work because one less fault meant there was even less a chance of my potion being a failure.

Even now, as I sat cross legged on the bed, whilst supposedly on 'holiday' I was busy looking over the annotated notes Master Puffins had made on the tentative recipe I had owled him a few days ago. His red inked annotations had me thinking deeply about the approach I took towards the purpose of my potion; vertigo induced sickness. Frowning in thought, I piled my hair at the top of my head with a quickly murmured sticking charm. Waving my wand at my luggage carrier, I summoned my shrunken book of potion's ingredients.

Magicking it back to its normal size, I rifled through the worn book – one handed down from Master Puffin's mentor to him and now gifted to me – I searched for a suitable replacement for powdered Runespoor fang. According to Master Puffins's notes, using the powdered form would render the potion too unstable and using an unpowdered version would change the texture of the potion into a thick gloop that would be useless and no one would drink it.

"Chizpurfle fang?" I murmured under my breath, drumming my fingers against my legs. "But as a powder? Would that make it unstable again? Would it be less reactive as a powder? A higher quantity?"

The book was eased out of my hand, taking me by surprise. Looking up with instant protests on my lips, I found Charlie standing beside the bed with an unimpressed scowl. Shutting the book with a resounding snap, he placed it on top of my suitcase.

"I thought you were here to visit me?" he asked with crossed arms. "That means that work can wait until you go home again."

Frowning petulantly, I drew my legs up towards my chest; he knew how much I hated being stopped midway though working out an issue. "You were off taming a dragon or whatever it is that you do. So, what if I decided to do some work as well?"

"Well I'm back now," he pointed out.

"Couldn't you have given me another ten minutes?" I mumbled under my breath and Charlie scowled at me, clearly not expecting that to be my answer.

But he didn't let that keep him down for long. Instead, he practically tackled me on the bed until I was lying flat on my back. He straddled my legs, tickling me fiercely until I dissolved into helpless laughter. Even then he didn't let up, continuing to torture me until I was red in the face.

"Charlie!" I managed to protest, clamping my hands on top of his to stop him. He finally listened, his own smile fading slightly when my eyes met his. My own laughter followed shortly after, trailing off expectantly when he leaned down towards me.

Pushing myself up with my elbows to meet him halfway, I let him kiss me. Winding my arms around his neck, I couldn't help but laugh against his lips when his fingers moved for a few seconds, tickling me lightly again. Winding my hands through the hair at the back of his neck in retaliation, I tugged gently not that Charlie would let me get away with that for long. His hands disappeared under my oversized shirt, clutching the bare skin of my waist. And Merlin, if that contact didn't have me gasping slightly. Drawing away from me to catch his breath, Charlie pressed his forehead to my own, eyes closed. I reached up eagerly towards him again, wanting to close the distance –

Someone knocked harshly against the wooden door, the sound echoing around Charlie's cabin. With an irritated groan, Charlie forced himself to rise from me. Before he could stand from the bed to leave, I caught his arm and made him sit on the edge of the mattress. When he glanced curiously towards me, I motioned for him to wait.

Sure enough, the same knocking echoed around the lodge again. Only this time it was followed shortly by my brother's exasperated shout, "There is no way in hell that I am leaving the pair of you alone!"

Sighing out his irritation, Charlie pressed his forehead to my shoulder. With a quiet laugh, I brought my hand up to run it soothingly through his hair. It worked to make him lift his head so that he could look at me.

"Your brother is going to kill me," Charlie murmured with an exaggerated pout. "He hasn't left us alone since you got here."

"Did you honestly expect him to?" I asked just as quietly, with a shake of my head. "Since it looks like he's not going to let things get any further, I'm going to work on the recipe and you can open the door for him. When he's certain things are remaining strictly child friendly, he'll leave."

"No, he won't," Charlie pointed out correctly. "He'll try and get you moving into his cabin for the rest of your week here."

"Very true," I agreed as I went to stand up.

Charlie caught my hand before I could settle my feet on the floor. Drawing me silently back onto the bed, he manoeuvred me onto his lap and wound his arms around me before I could try and leave. With an indulgent sigh, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

"If we're quiet enough, he'll just leave," Charlie stated optimistically, leaning down to kiss me again even as my brother continued to knock on the door. We both knew that he would eventually give up when his knuckles started to hurt and when he realised that he wouldn't be able to force his way into the cabin. It was just a matter of waiting.


End file.
